Lysandra extinguished the candle with a soft puff, plunging the room into moonlit darkness. The window's fractured panes scattered the moonlight into prisms, painting the bed in silvers and blues.
They slipped under the covers together, the linens rustling, the straw mattress crackling faintly beneath them.
The bed was narrow, forcing their bodies close, and Elara felt the warmth of Lysandra's skin through the thin fabric of their gowns, a contrast to the cool night air.
They turned toward each other, their movements instinctive, foreheads touching, breaths mingling in the quiet. Lysandra's scent enveloped Elara—leather and steel from her armour, undercut by a faint trace of rosemary from the soap she used.
"It's been so long since I've held you like this," Lysandra whispered, her voice a velvet caress, rich with longing.
Her hand traced slow, deliberate patterns along Elara's back, fingers gliding over the linen, igniting a gentle spark that chased away the chill of exhaustion.
Elara's heart quickened, a steady thrum in her chest, not from the strain of magic but from the pull of connection, deep and unshakable.
Their lips met, tentative at first, a brush of softness that tasted of salt and the faint iron of Elara's blood, now dried.
The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, tongues exploring with a quiet reverence, savouring the warmth of each other's mouths. Elara's fingers threaded into Lysandra's hair, the strands silky and cool, slipping through her fingers like water.
Lysandra's hand slid down Elara's side, gathering the hem of her nightgown, the fabric bunching under her touch. She lifted it slowly, exposing Elara's skin to the cool air, the contrast sending a shiver through her.
The moonlight caught the curve of Elara's hip, painting it in silver, and Lysandra's gaze lingered, her eyes dark with desire.
Lysandra shifted, her body pressing closer, their legs entwining, the friction of skin against skin sending a ripple of warmth through Elara. Lysandra's lips trailed from Elara's mouth to her jaw, then down the column of her neck, each kiss a soft press of heat, leaving a trail of tingling sensation.
Her breath was warm, faintly sweet from the bread they'd eaten earlier, and Elara tilted her head back, offering more skin to Lysandra's exploration. "I've missed this," Lysandra murmured against the hollow of Elara's throat, her voice a low vibration that sent a pulse of heat pooling low in Elara's belly.
Lysandra's hand ventured higher, cupping Elara's breast through the linen, her thumb brushing the sensitive peak until it hardened, eliciting a soft gasp. The fabric was a teasing barrier, amplifying each touch, and Elara arched into it, her breath hitching.
Lysandra's fingers slipped beneath the gown, skin meeting skin, and she traced the curve of Elara's breast, her touch reverent, as if memorising every contour.
Elara's hands roamed in turn, sliding under Lysandra's gown to caress the smooth planes of her shoulders, feeling the strength beneath the softness, the way her muscles tensed and relaxed under her touch.
Lower still, Lysandra's hand glided between Elara's thighs, parting them with gentle insistence. Her fingers found the warmth there, slick and inviting, and began a slow, circling motion that drew a quiet moan from Elara's lips.
The sensation was electric, each touch a spark that built in intensity, and Elara's hips rose to meet it, her body responding instinctively.
Their eyes locked in the moonlight, vulnerability and desire mirrored in their gazes, and Lysandra entered her with careful fingers, curling them in a way that made Elara's breath catch, her body trembling with pleasure.
Elara mirrored the exploration, her fingers slipping under Lysandra's gown to find her core, warm and wet, matching the tender rhythm.
The air filled with the soft sounds of their lovemaking—the wet glide of skin, the hushed whispers of names and endearments, the shared gasps as pleasure built in waves.
Lysandra's body shuddered under Elara's touch, her breath coming in soft pants, and Elara felt a surge of tenderness, her heart swelling at the intimacy of it.
Time stretched, each moment savoured: the way Lysandra's hips rocked against Elara's hand, the arch of Elara's back as release neared, the soft creak of the bed beneath them.
The moonlight bathed them in a silver glow, their bodies moving in sync, a dance of give and take. Elara's fingers quickened, drawing a low moan from Lysandra, whose own touch grew more insistent, their rhythms aligning.
The pleasure built, a slow crescendo that tightened in Elara's core, mirrored in Lysandra's tightening grip.
They climaxed together, bodies shuddering in unison, waves of ecstasy washing over them like a gentle tide. Elara's moan was soft, swallowed by Lysandra's kiss, their lips pressed together as they rode the aftershocks.
The air was thick with the scent of their arousal, mingling with the lavender and wax, and their breaths came in ragged harmony, chests heaving.
In the aftermath, they lay entwined, limbs tangled, the linens twisted around them. The bleeding had stopped, forgotten in the haze of contentment.
Lysandra pressed a final kiss to Elara's temple, her lips soft and warm, and pulled her closer, their bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. The straw mattress rustled faintly as they settled, the bed creaking one last time.
"Sleep now, my love," Lysandra whispered, her voice a soothing balm.
Elara nodded, her eyes drifting closed, lulled by the steady rise and fall of Lysandra's chest, the faint thump of her heartbeat against her cheek.
The palace's shadows held them in a fragile peace, the moonlight fading as clouds passed overhead.